


Rite of Passage

by Kisuru



Series: Fictober [2]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Canon Universe, Family, Fictober, Fictober 2019, Gen, Ghosts, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisuru/pseuds/Kisuru
Summary: A young Sarada practices shuriken training on her own. While she struggles, she meets someone who seems oddly familiar.Prompt: Ghosts





	Rite of Passage

Droplets of nervous sweat trickled down her forehead. The tree target’s bull’s eye meters away swam in her vision. Five shuriken stuck to the tree trunk below the target, rubbing salt in her wounds.  
  
Sarada could do this. Recently, she had become much better at keeping her aim towards the target, but she still had to practice on her own outside of class to stay ahead. She _would_! All the abilities she needed were in her arsenal. Except the Sharingan. At seven years old, she had not fully uncapped its potential.  
  
It didn’t matter! She must train hard in shurikenjutsu and make the most of it.  
  
Sarada gripped the shuriken’s center. She raised her arm, groaning in exasperation. Thinking about it too much was not the right way to go about this, but… Should she move the shuriken path to the left, or towards the right? A current of wind blew from the left. Would the wind change the throw’s course? Yet another variable.  
  
A twig snapped. The shuriken darted out of her hand in surprise. In a split instant, a human-shaped shadow appeared to her left. A slender hand shot out and grabbed the shuriken’s center in a neat catch.  
  
“You’re focused. You’re not fully taking into account hand-eye coordination.”  
  
Sarada adjusted her glasses. No, she saw him right, and he still held the shuriken. Seeing her frozen in awe, his jaw set.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said. “A lecture was unnecessary. I distracted you.”  
  
“No. You’re right. I’m looking ahead…” Instead of frustration, she was at a loss for words. How long did he watch? Maybe that was the problem with her method. Sarada still had to train a lot so nobody could _catch_ her shuriken in mid-flight! That was her concern. How could she be a kunoichi if her hand slipped easily?  
  
“I didn’t realize this spot was taken,” he continued dispassionately. He offered her muted, calm look, weighing her reaction with judgment. “I don’t want to impose. I will find another training ground now.”  
  
The words leapt over her head, suddenly captivated once she took into account who he was. The successful journey of her shuriken to her target fell to the back of her mind. The man’s pitch-black eyes, black long hair in a low ponytail, and his fair complexion… Similar serious features resembled the pictures of her father. She had never seen her father in person, but she had the uncanny sense that she saw him. Déjà vu caused Sarada to shiver.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he asked.  
  
“Nothing,” she said to break the silence. Something within her heart pleaded her to tell him not to leave. What a puzzling reaction to a stranger. She blinked, her eyes blurry. “This spot is always popular for training shurikenjutsu anyway. I often train with my friends on these grounds.”  
  
Boruto tossed shuriken willy-nilly during class, but his strength and ability were obvious. Chocho ate chips before practice and never had to worry about her aim lacking force; she had plenty of power and more in reserve. Most of the kids took shuriken practice seriously except for squabbles and some goofing-off. Yet Sarada couldn’t help but feel behind.  
  
A flicker of wonderment passed across his face. His stance was rigid, his heel half-turned towards the path he appeared from. His stoic expression revealed the curiosity that someone felt right before they anchored their feet with chakra and walked across water for the first time.  
  
“I am… your friend?” he asked. His voice had dropped, as though deep in thought.  
  
Sarada colored, then shook her head and glanced away. “We _are_ Konoha shinobi. It’s not really a question,” she recited while she gestured towards the crossed-out leaf on his headband, strong-willed and sharp. She didn’t know the reason the metal was ruined, but… He must have been in battle. The notion was obvious. Mama knew everyone in Konoha. As her friend, the Nanadaime said the village no matter who they were should be united.  
  
The stiffness in his shoulders relaxed. He hesitated. Then, he walked towards her.  
  
“Your parents teach you shurikenjutsu?” he asked, handing Sarada the shuriken.  
  
“Mama taught me a little bit,” Sarada said. Her index finger traced the metal point of the shuriken and remembered Mama’s graceful yet dainty hold on it. “And she is really, really skilled at shurikenjutsu! Really. But she’s busy at the hospital, and we can’t train every day.” She kicked at the ground, eyes downcast. “Mama says Papa is skilled. Papa is always gone.”  
  
It wasn’t until she poured out her feelings that the need to explain overwhelmed her. Normally, she didn’t feel the need to tell anyone outside her circle personal details. She didn’t know why she told him. He was not entitled to anything. Regardless, she wanted to tell him about them.  
  
He glanced up at the sky. He followed the wispy clouds trailing the blue above the canopy of clouds. Somewhere unknown in the vast world, Papa fought for peace. The atmosphere became heavy. Sighing, he dismissed it, and then glanced at the target meaningfully, cupping his hand.  
  
“Show me again?”  
  
Returning to the perfect textbook stance, she poised. Back slightly bent, arm at the ready, and senses on alert. The target was within her sights. She had to display her best—her absolute skill. Again, she noted him watching her, and she dallied on the pressure of impressing him. At the last minute, her arm rose too high; the pads of her thumb and fingers propped the star’s spikes into the air in a lopsided motion. The shuriken sailed into the tree bark directly below the target board.  
  
Another shuriken joined the other ones.  
  
Sarada winced.  
  
“As I thought,” he mused. He plucked the shuriken from the trunk and brought it back to her. “You forget basic posture right before release. Your body needs to be flexible and fluid in order to make it happen. Your throw trajectory slips.”  
  
Annoyance welled up in her chest, but mostly aimed towards herself. She didn’t need him to tell her that! But she still had messed up. “Okay, I know! I… But… Why can’t it work that way?” She pouted and kicked the pebble at her sandal toe.  
  
“There’s a method to everything.”  
  
“I read a lot,” she challenged. “I’ve read up about them at the library already.”  
  
“Reading and application are not the same assets,” he said. His lips quirked upwards, pleased. “Training your brain and your body are separate. You need both for your purpose, but your mental and physical strength work together.”  
  
“I still wish we mastered things as soon as we read them,” Sarada grumbled.  
  
“We all go at our own pace.”  
  
He crouched next to her. Taking some unknown thing into account, he paused. His body was hunched, hand gripping the edge of his shirt. His knuckles were white. Sarada almost swore he forgot she was there, but she didn’t see anyone else with them in the clearing or even sense more chakra. Sarada was too mesmerized with the silent, constant flux of undecipherable shift in emotion. Despite herself, the short of it was he intimidated her.  
  
“You’re acting weird,” Sarada decided.  
  
The hand on his shirt left a wrinkle as he let go. “You want to learn everything. You have my brother’s spirit,” he admitted.  
  
Sarada shot him a sour look. She didn’t know who he meant, but his tone implied the sentiment had a story attached to it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
The cautious edges of a smile broke on his face. He leaned back, took a breath, and laughed. Taken aback, she knew she hadn’t expected that, least of all things. He placed a hand on her elbow. His touch was almost too far away as though the act were a precaution despite Sarada not having a problem with it. His skin was too light and cool to be real, the flow of his chakra network different to her senses.  
  
“Relax your arm,” he said.  
  
Sarada almost demanded an answer. She shrugged. Whatever, it was pointless.  
  
The muscle in her upper forearm flexed and slowly drained of tension. Her fist of frustration on the shuriken circle followed. “How can you be relaxed in a fight?” She had never been on the battlefield. One of the first things she had learned was the unpleasant and unpredictable nature of fights. “You fight terrible enemies.”  
  
“Fighting isn’t pure impulsivity. Assessing moves under pressure helps you dodge impending failure. Weapons are thrown because of judgement. Fear leads to a clouded mind,” he said. “You said you have your teammates to rely on. You don’t have anything to worry about.”  
  
Sarada couldn’t wrap her whole brain around it. She pictured the mere foreign shadow of a threat. She had only known a life of peaceful happiness, and she wouldn’t be in a three-genin squad until she graduated the Academy. The world was bigger than Konoha. But her friends would have her back. It wasn’t a question. Small grains of truth were in his words.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she took in the circles and dots on the training board. She couldn’t rush into it or let herself become too agitated with it, so…  
  
He let go of her arm. The power built up within her as she raised it on her own and kept it steady as he had helped her with. Already prepared, her wrist and fingers lightly tensed, then released, and the shuriken flew horizontally outwards.  
  
The point stabbed the target’s bottom.  
  
“Much closer,” he said.  
  
Sarada hummed in approval. He wasn’t wrong about that. She had done better!  
  
“Don’t fight your body falling into the motion of it,” he said. “Lean into it. Your body is an extension of your hand; the shuriken is a part of you until it flies.”  
  
Sarada didn’t exactly understand how to do that. Anyway, she had to make herself less prone to rigidness. Go with the flow.  
She wiped the bead of sweat from her palm on her shirt. The shuriken’s metal arm pressed into her skin before it fell into formation between her fingers.  
  
The shuriken was a blur. It soared and hit the spot directly above the first shuriken.  
  
Sarada didn’t stop to entertain her victory. She continued to throw each shuriken at her own pace, her speed accelerating once the feel of the wind and weight of the metal fit her expectations. It was all instinct honed through sheer movement, the feeling a flower that blooms in the spring has once it drinks earth-fresh water and towers towards the sun.  
  
With a triumphant smack, the shuriken smacked the center spot of the target.  
  
“Cha!” she yelled, jumping in the air.  
  
Dapples of dark and light played across his features from the fluttering leaves above them. The glow of sunlight on his skin was too bright. He closed his eyes, rocking back and forth on his heels.  
  
“Excellent,” he said.  
  
“Naturally.” She crossed her arms, hoping she sounded as grown-up as she felt.  
  
Amused, he shrugged in acceptance.  
  
“Now that you have the hang of that,” he said, gesturing to one of the trees off to the left, “do you think you can hit that hidden target behind that one tree?”  
  
More training? In fairness, Sarada wasn’t tired. She squinted. She had not noticed the array of visible and hidden targets beyond the clearing yet, but she wasn’t surprised the forest had them scattered in high places. She saw the edge of it behind a patch of leaves on an oak.  
  
“That’s five times my height!” Sarada pouted. Channeling power into an upward throw past the twisting branches seemed to be a stretch. “Can I really hit that?”  
  
“Your perception of the distance will change with effort. A perception based on physical ability is misleading,” he said. “Perceptions aren’t always correct.”  
  
“Don’t you use launchers for distance?”  
  
“Practicing with launchers will come. Keep in mind you aren’t most kuinoichi, after all,” he said. He gathered up the shuriken she had tossed for her while she mulled the dilemma he presented her with. “You haven’t awakened your Sharingan?”  
  
“No,” she said automatically, realizing how her kekkai genkai would make the problem with this a no-brainer. Granted, she didn’t know its specific mechanics other than it made her perception strong. She hadn’t read a book on it and Mama didn’t know everything about it. Mama _had_ told her Sharingan was amazing and the glimpses of red she sometimes saw when she was excited about Papa might be the precursor to awakening it. The Sharingan would make things much simpler. It must have been so obvious since she wasn’t using it, though.  
  
The creases of the tear-troughs under his eyes fell downwards with a frown. “Your Sharingan will be your sharpest tool for accuracy,” he said, voice proud that he had that much about her right. “Do not rush awakening your own fate. It will be another piece of the puzzle that falls in line with the skills you build-up first.”  
  
“I guess,” Sarada said. Being a late bloomer (when was the normal time to awaken the Sharingan? She had no clue) in accordance with her knowledge wasn’t fun. The assurance she could fit throws in line with Sharingan appeased her. Getting the Sharingan to work in tandem with her movements would be a special day.  
  
He placed the stack of shuriken in her hands. Sarada stepped back a few times. The shuriken rose in a vertical position at her side. She lifted her hand near her head for the right angle, and then did it again. She lowered it and tossed the shuriken high into the air. It landed on a branch shielding the tree from her view and bounced off into the shrubbery.  
  
“Put passion into it,” he reminded her.  
  
“You said to be calm,” Sarada accused. How could she be calm and passionate?  
  
“Passion and willpower are the strongest building blocks that keep your purpose true,” he said. “The obstacles standing in front of your goals will be obliterated.”  
  
Her goal…  
  
What was her goal?  
  
Her goal was to protect people… Konoha? She didn’t know. She hadn’t thought of it.  
  
In any case, she had willpower!  
  
The shuriken in her palm were picked up one by one and flung towards the target. Her body moved with the pitch, knees bending to meet the curve of her elbow. The slight push of the shuriken left her fingers from the ring and sliced the air.  
  
“_Shannaro_!”  
  
A shuriken hit the tree across from her.  
  
A shuriken tumbled into more brush.  
  
Another shuriken disappeared mid-flight.  
  
One shuriken even cut a thin branch off.  
  
A faint thwack cracked near the target site. Sarada ran forward to look — this time it did not sound like the trunk the shuriken stabbed earlier. Sure enough, the tip hung smack-dab in the center.  
  
Incredulous of her luck, her mouth fell agape with shock. Rushes of adrenaline seeped through every fiber of her being. She turned around, chest puffed out.  
  
Sarada beamed. “I hit the target!”  
  
The space the man had stood in was empty. No trace of chakra lingered.  
  
Sarada did a double take and stumbled over her own feet. She caught herself with quick balance. Now where did he go? Put out, she searched for him where she could see the clearing, but he was gone. She bit the inside of her cheek, miffed.  
  
“Thanks?”  
  
Her foot smacked something hard.  
  
A pile of shuriken lay at her feet. Every single shuriken of hers had landed in the forest and she hadn’t collected any of them. The polish and design confirmed the shuriken were absolutely hers. No denying it. Sarada blinked at them.  
  
In the throes of the moment, Sarada had not considered his words. She had ridden the mysterious flow of his presence and let him teach her. The words he spoke suddenly echoed in her ears. Perplexed, she touched the corner of her eye. He had been self-confident her eyes would keep her safe as a full-fledged kunoichi.  
  
He was eerily familiar. The encounter had been nothing more than a coincidence.  
  
“He knew about my Sharingan?”  
  
A warm breeze ruffled her hair in reply.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts I keep thinking up for these two are longer than what I can accomplish in one day. That is why I’m behind a few days on Fictober now that I have written this, and I need to keep the 2k+ fic to a minimum. I ended up with the old-fashioned idea for shuriken training. Something on the lighter and fluffier scale, so this works? I really just wanted to see how it’d go if they met.


End file.
